Stepbrother Billionaire(41)
Author: Colleen Masters

Sure. No problem.

Speaking of Emerson, he didn’t even try to get in touch with me after our roller coaster of a Saturday night. Between our steamy make out session, our tussle over money issues, and my grandparents’ atrocious behavior, I’m not really sure where we stand. And now, we’re going to spend this entire week in each others’ company as I learn the ropes of my new job. This should be interesting, that’s for sure.

I arrive at the Bastian offices right on time, dressed in my best “professional hipster” office attire. But as I step out of the elevator, ready to dive into my training, I’m surprised to find myself alone in the communal workroom. Of the dozen or so other employees, no one else seems to be around.

“Hello?” I call, glancing around in search of my coworkers. I check my phone and see that it is, indeed, 10 a.m. The start of the workday. What gives? For something to do, I head on over to the well-stocked bar and snack cart, where a fancy, gleaming espresso machine stands at the ready. As I set to work crafting myself an excellent cup of coffee, I hear footsteps behind me. Spinning around, I find myself face-to-face with the man I’ve been thinking of incessantly for the past two days.

“Oh Abby, you shouldn’t have!” Emerson teases, eyeing my espresso, “It’s not your job to make me coffee in the morning.”

“How convenient!” I chirp, playing along with his bit as I grab my mug, “Because this sucker is all mine.”

“I’ll just have to join you, then,” Emerson smiles, stepping around me to get at the espresso machine. “Unless we’re still doing that not-talking thing that I hate so much.”

“Not at all,” I reply, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. And not from the caffeine, either. “Provided that you don’t hate me after Saturday night.”

“Please,” Emerson laughs, “I’ve long since stopped caring about what people think of me, Abby. And I certainly don’t make a habit of holding peoples’ families against them. I’m sorry that I said those shitty things about your grandparents. It’s not my place to judge them, even if they have no problem at all judging me.”

“Man. How’s the weather up there on the high road?” I laugh, sipping my coffee.

“What can I say? That charming temper of mine isn’t quite as hot as it was eight years ago,” he replies, picking up his own mug of joe. “Turns out that punching people is frowned upon in the tech industry. Who knew? So, what do you say? Are we all right?”

“We’re all right,” I smile back.

“I see you like your present,” he observes, looking down at my right hand.

“Oh yeah,” I reply, admiring the silver ring once again. Thank god I remembered to put it back on the right hand, rather than the left. “It’s beautiful, Emerson.”

“I’m glad you still think so, after all this time,” he says, “Still the same old Abby, huh?”

“More or less,” I shrug, “Though I seem to be more obnoxiously punctual these days. Where is everyone?”

“Oh, Cooper doesn’t usually roll in until noon or so, and the rest of the office has taken to his schedule,” Emerson tells me.

“Jeez,” I say, “Just when I was thinking this job couldn’t get any better…”

“It’s a pretty sweet gig,” Emerson agrees, “We work hard, but on our own terms. I’ve never been happier with any other company I’ve worked for. I figured I’d get here early to meet you today, show you the ropes before everyone gets here. Ready to start, protégé?”

“All set,” I say, draining the rest of my coffee, “Teach me your ways, O’ Wise One.”

The rest of the day unfolds before us as Emerson walks me through all the ins and outs of the agency. My job will mostly consist of brainstorming new ideas for marketing and branding before passing them along to different clients. I’ll get to execute my ideas using Bastian’s top-of-the-line design suite, too. I never thought that I’d get to have a job that I actually like, especially not this early on in my career. Between the new gig at Bastian and Emerson happening back into my life, 26 is shaping up to be a fine year, indeed…

That is, as long as I don’t think of the whole grandparents-disowning-me-thing.

Emerson and I are sitting together at one end of the communal desk as our coworkers begin to arrive a couple hours later. Everyone greets me in a cordial, if not chipper, way. But hey, we’re all millennials, that’s how we roll. I’d rather they be real with me than overly enthusiastic. I recognize a few people—Bradley, Tyler, and Emily—from the other night at the bar. They all smile politely at me as they settle down to work, but I can feel their eyes darting back and forth between Emerson and me.

I’m sure they’re wondering what we were doing at the bar together, what the nature of our relationship is, all that. I almost laugh, thinking about how I’d explain our relationship these days: “Oh, you know, we were step-siblings for a day, slept together once, haven’t seen each other in ten years, but yeah—it’s totally chill!” I decide not to worry about what anyone else might be thinking and focus on learning the ropes. By the end of my first day, I feel like I’m starting to have an idea of all that the job will entail, and I’m more excited than ever to keep learning more. It turns out, Emerson is a great teacher.

Cooper doesn’t roll into until after noon, just like Emerson said. He smiles around at his worker bees, and comes over to say hello to me and Emerson.

“How’s your first day so far, Abby?” he asks jovially.

“I haven’t broken anything yet,” I reply, “So I guess it’s all good!”

“She’s a natural at this,” Emerson tells Cooper.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tyler nudge Bradley and shoot him a knowing look. I should remind Emerson not to praise me too vocally around the others. It might get people talking about us. Maybe even feeling a little jealous of my friendly relationship with one of the agency’s higher-ups. My grandfather’s quip about what I might have done with Emerson to get this job still stings. I don’t want anyone here getting the same idea. Though glancing around the communal workstation, it looks like it might be too late for that.

I feel myself growing quiet as the day wears on, self-conscious of what my coworkers might be saying about my rather cozy relationship with the head of the company’s European branch. By the time we all start to clock out and head home once more, my jaw may as well be wired shut. My growing silence isn’t lost on Emerson, either.